Home is Miles Away
by Sockitysocks
Summary: Everyone joined up for a reason. Mine: to stay with my brother. The only problem: I'm his little sister. (Set sometime after series 1 of The Crimson Field, a patient turns up who has a secret; she's actually a girl. And she'd probably have been able to keep that secret if only the doctors weren't so annoyingly adorable.) Where Jiles all began.
1. Chapter 1

**A hearty hello and wonderful welcome to you all!  
I hope you enjoy this, it's based off a dream I had. Well no, this _is_ my dream, just with a few less purple hippos called Sandra. (I joke of course... I left Sandra in)****Umm.. basically blame my subconscious for everything :D**

1

The shell hit, and for a split second, I thought it hadn't exploded. Then the ground shifted beneath me, and, for that brief moment, I could see the expanse of the battlefield below me; I watched the toy soldiers running, the smoke chasing them, pulling at their ankles, and dragging them back. Moreover, I could see the crater below, the one that I was falling into.

That's when it caught up to me; the noise, the smell… the pain. I felt the wind smash into my left side with all the force of a hundred bullets and I was spiralling into the wasteland I'd learnt to call home.

I slammed into the mud feeling an eruption of pain as my right side took the impact. I felt the give of my ribs breaking beneath me. My breaths were shallow as I fought the cough, building in my chest as my lungs fought against the mud I knew I was breathing in. Somewhere behind the ringing in my ears, I heard feet running through the mud and a muddle of shouts and arms came from above, engulfing me in blackness.

The next thing I was aware of was the jolting ride in the back of a truck. Every slight dip in the road sent shockwaves of pain through my entire body.

"Jo? Jo, you awake?"

I opened my eyes as best I could to see the fuzzy face of my brother, John, grinning down at me. I blinked a few times and after a moment of testing the muscles in my face, I finally returned the smile.

"How bad is it?' I croaked, trying to lift my head to look down at my body but I felt gentle hands pushing down on my shoulders.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you," he grinned his usual grimace. "It's not too bad, but… well. You do have a shell's worth of shrapnel making its home in your ribcage."

I groaned, unsubtly hinting I would like him to shut up. Straight away.

"Not to mention the gash across your stomach, it goes right from your…" he trailed off as he finally clocked on to my expression. "Its fine, you'll be fine. Of course you will."

"If I walk away from this we really need to have a discussion about your bedside manner," I grumbled half-heartedly.

John smirked back at me and sat back, moving out of my sight. "You should probably get some rest now, before the morphine wears off."

I could still hear the level of amusement in his voice.

"This is all just a joke to you isn't it?" I tried to laugh but my ribs ached with the movement.

"You were spectacular; you looked incredibly graceful as you flew through the air…."

I smiled and let my left arm flail until I managed to hit him, making him laugh even harder.

The truck rolled to a sudden stop and I lurched into John, coughing with the pain that the sudden movement evoked.

"Careful." John winced as he held my shoulders down. "Bloody hell you look awful."

"How… how could I possibly survive this without your encouragement?" I coughed out.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the back of the truck swung open and strong arms were carrying me from the truck towards one of the tents. I was vaguely aware of John shouting something but I couldn't hear over the sound of the panic as the other injured soldiers were unloaded from the trucks, most of them in a far worse condition than I was.

"Get him on the bed, one of the nurses will see to him in a minute."

The barked order was obeyed and I found myself laid, with relative gentleness, onto one of the dozen beds on the ward. Shouts surrounded me and the smell of blood was almost more intense there than it had been in the trenches.

I let myself sink further into the clean sheets waiting for someone to tell me what to do next. I don't know how long it was I was lying there, it felt like hours but I suppose it was barely a minute, when John ducked through the flap with a half grin smeared into the mud on his face, he looked about as bothered as he ever had when he'd had a snipers rifle pointed at him. Coincidentally he'd worn the same expression when I was ten and he'd taken me to a pier for my birthday. I vaguely wondered if he ever used his facial muscles. He scanned the tent until his eyes rested on me and he swerved his way over to me through the throng of activity.

"Jo, they're sending me back," he dropped heavily onto the bed swinging his feet up. "I tried to tell them I needed to stay but that nurse is a right-" he stopped, the muscles in his jaw speaking prominently enough for him. So he _did _use those muscles.

"Make yourself comfortable, don't mind me." I rolled my eyes as his uniform shed mud across my (previously) nice clean bed. "Why does that matter?" I asked, finally registering what he was saying. "You're not injured; you can get back to the lads."

"And leave you on your own in a hospital?" He gave a short laugh. "You do realise they'll kill me faster than Fritz if I leave you here."

I must have been staring at him with an expression of confusion because he rolled his eyes fondly and ruffled my hair the way he always used to when we were kids.

"You promised me when I let you join up you wouldn't get hurt; you're my little…" he dropped his voice to a whisper, "you're my little sister." He nudged my shoulder. "You're _our_ little brother now, don't you forget that,"

He laughed again, the way he always did when he was worried but wouldn't let it show. "Look I have to go now, before I end up court-martialled for looking after my little brother." He grinned and leant forward so he was whispering in my ear. "Just watch out for the doctors, the dark haired one looks just your type," he laughed as I just raised my eyebrows to him. "Oh, and you might want to remember to keep your shirt on-"

I think he was about to say something else but a doctor approached the bed and John straightened up with a wink at me. I looked from him to the dark haired surgeon who was standing with a slightly amused expression on his - admittedly gorgeous - face. My eyes flicked back to John and as I did the gears in my brain clicked and I felt my eyes widen. John fought back a laugh as he saw my sudden panic.

"I tried to warn you," he was biting his lip to keep his voice steady. "Look after yourself Jo-Jo." With that he was gone, pushing past the doctor, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

I stared after him; the idiot was just going to leave me here! He was going to pay if I ever got out of this.

I turned back to the doctor. Young, handsome… Why did he have to be so damn attractive? I couldn't have had a less gorgeous doctor, could I? That was just asking too much. And I knew I probably shouldn't ask… I had to let this honestly adorable man take care of me without letting him know that I was actually a girl…

How could this possibly go wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

2

The doctor raised his eyebrows slightly before shaking his head and turning back to the clipboard in his hand. "Was that your brother?" he asked, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

I internally slapped my brain; it couldn't have been any of the other men I'd met in this bloody war could it? One of the soldiers I'd walk past and never have to see again until I was safely back in England and I could introduce myself as Josephine, rather than Joseph? No, that would have been far too easy.

Something in his smile made my knees go weak, not that I could really feel my knees from beneath the pain in my chest.

I swallowed hard and nodded back. "He might just be your next patient if I can get off this bed," I growled at the flap John had just left through.

The doctor let out a light laugh and took a step closer to me to lay his hand on my forehead.  
I had to fight not to flinch away from his touch and I was biting my lip so hard that I could taste blood by the time he lifted his hand away from me.

"Let's have a look at the damage then." He smiled with a surreal cheeriness as he placed the clipboard on the table and rolled his sleeves up.

Without thinking I grabbed the hem of my shirt tightly and held it. "No!" I started. "I mean- its fine. Honestly." I tried to flash a smile.

"I don't think you've quite understood the concept of hospitals," he said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

I found myself staring back before I caught myself and blinked, looking away quickly. "It's really not that bad… I just need some rest or-"

"Miles! There you are!" A nurse appeared by his side, breathing heavily. "Tom needs you in surgery. Now."

Miles' face split into a grin. "Of course he does, I'm glad to see he's finally bowing to my superior surgical skills."

The nurse gave a long-suffering sigh. "Just get over there before he kills someone."

"That's probably less of a metaphor than you might imagine." Miles' smile never faltered once.

"Can you get him cleaned up and ready for when I'm done?" He inclined his head towards me as he ducked away from sight. "Thanks Kitty!"

The nurse, Kitty, turned to look at me and I pulled my face into an overly forced smile.

"Looks like you got left with me, nurse!" I grinned as broadly as I could, mimicking the way I'd watched John flirting with the French girls at every town we'd passed through.

She gave a small smile in response and pulled one of the screens around the bed to shield us from the rest of the ward. My heart was racing as I held firmly onto my shirt. "If you just leave the water I'll get myself cleaned up," I tried. "You're probably very busy; I wouldn't want to keep you."

"Don't be silly, it's my job." She sat down on the edge of the bed with a smile that would, under any other circumstances, have been comforting. But this wasn't going to work. I made a mental note to make John suffer for leaving me here – he really was a rubbish big brother.

She must have read the worry in my eyes because she looked at me with an expression of pitying encouragement. "You'll feel better once you're clean and Miles, I mean Captain Hesketh-Thorne, can get to your side." She leant forwards and prised my fingers from the hem of my shirt.

"Please, I can manage-" My protests were interrupted by another doctor pushing past the screen, his Scottish accent reaching my ears before I could even see him.

"What the hell did you tell Miles? He's acting like he's God almighty," the doctor, who I assumed must be Tom, rolled his eyes. "Even more than usual that is."

The nurse laughed as she stood up, "I didn't think that was possible. And I thought you were busy with that operation."

"I was, but Miles insisted he should be the one to do it, seeing as he's far more superior," he said, with one eyebrow raised and his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So I thought I'd leave him to it and get some free time." Tom flashed Kitty a smile, not seeming to realise I was there.

"Thomas Gillian, are you trying to tell me you have suddenly ended up with some free time and just don't know what to do with it?" The nurse smiled flirtatiously.

"You know damned well that's exactly what I'm saying." His eyes never left her face as he was speaking.

"Good, then you can get Miles' next patient ready for him." She grinned sweetly.

I waved awkwardly at him from the bed.

Tom opened his mouth to reply but shut it again with a shake of his head and a laugh. "Well played, Katherine Trevelyan, well played."

"You're a star." Kitty kissed him quickly on the cheek and ducked behind the screen, Tom's eyes following her, a smile on his lips.

I waited a moment, but when he still hadn't moved I let out a small cough to remind him I was there. He jumped slightly, spinning around and scratching his head guiltily before picking up the clipboard Miles had been scribbling on.

"The thing is doc, I'm fine to do this on my own. I tried to tell the nurse…"

"Private, you've got at least three broken ribs and apparently half a battlefield's worth of debris in your side. You're going to need help."

"Thing _is_," I repeated, having no idea where I was going with this. "I have a slight problem: I can't take my shirt of."

"Isn't that why I'm here to help?" he raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"_No!_" I held an arm out stopping him from coming any closer. "No, I mean I _can't_ _take my shirt off_." I tried to plead with him just with a look. It didn't work.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he smiled kindly. "We're both men here."

"Aren't we just," I mumbled under my breath.

Tom checked the clipboard again. "It's Joseph right?"

"Just Jo," I nodded. "Everyone calls me Jo."

"Joe, then, I need to get your side seen to before it gets infected. If it does this could become fatal." He wasn't messing around anymore. I could tell he was genuinely worried about this becoming a bigger problem.

I was silent. He took the silence for consent and sat down where Kitty had been to undo the buttons at the bottom of my shirt. I could feel myself tensing, there was no way this could end well. I caught his hands as they reached the third button.

"My name, on the form, it says Joseph, doesn't it?" I was talking quietly now, thankful for the noise on the rest of the ward. There was no chance of being overheard.

He nodded slowly, seemingly confused about where I was going with this. Not that I could blame him for finding this confusing.

"My name is Jo. But it's not short for Joseph."

He was even more confused now.

"My name is _Josephine._" I choked as I used the name I hadn't since I'd joined up. "I'm Josephine. That's why I can't."

The tape inside Tom's brain continued to tick as the letters typed themselves onto the record. Slowly he pulled his hands from mine; I'd forgotten I was still holding them.

We were both silent for a moment.

"You're telling me that…"

I nodded, not needing him to finish to be able to understand what he was saying. "Sorry." I didn't know why I was apologising, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Tom said nothing but continued unbuttoning my shirt until he was able to fold the stiff and muddied fabric up revealing the wound, but nothing more.

I let out a sigh of relief I didn't realise I'd been holding in.

He still said nothing as he washed the blood away with a touch so gentle it tickled more than it hurt.

After what could quite easily have been hours of his fingers gently washing then bandaging the skin, or at least what was left of it, he finally sat back and wiped his hands on a clean sheet.

"How's the pain?" he asked, his eyes not quite meeting mine.

"It's bearable," I replied honestly.

He gave a single nod before standing up and walking out, past the screen.

I sighed and dropped my head back against the pillow. No doubt he had gone to report me and I'd be on the first ship back to Blighty in the morning. I just hoped none of the lads would get into trouble for lying for me.

No doubt, my mother would have killed me, and John for that matter, if she found out that I'd joined up, and that he had let me. She had been under the impression that I was working devotedly as a nurse in England and was just unable to come to home.

Short from crawling out of the bed and dragging myself back to the trenches there was nothing I could do but wait. So I waited.


	3. Chapter 3

3

It wasn't long before Tom re-appeared. But instead of having the Colonel in tow, he was holding a crisply folded uniform.

"You'll need to change into this. Trust me, you'll feel better once you're clean and in dry clothes." He set the pile down at the end of the bed. "If you need help I'll be here. I can wait outside or turn around - whichever you prefer."

I felt guilty for misjudging him so much. "Thank you." I tried to sit up but pain shot through my side.

Instantly his arms were on my shoulders supporting me, "Careful there."

I smiled my gratitude at him. "I'll be fine," I reassured him. My voice was shaking with the pain but I gritted my teeth and with his help managed to sit up against a pillow.

He laid the shirt on the sheets in front of me and passed me the water and a cloth. "I'll just turn around," he decided for me with a small smile. "Don't worry, I'm not Miles, I won't look."

I managed a breathy laugh and as soon as his back was turned I pulled the remainder of the shirt off not even bothering to undo it. I just let the buttons rip. It was ruined anyway. It was a little tricky unwinding the linen strap from around my chest, but I finally managed it. It felt wonderful, the warm water cleaning the past months' grime away from me.

I didn't allow myself to divulge in the luxury long, so I carefully wiped down my arms, all the while careful to keep the bandages dry. I was washed and changed without too much discomfort. Thankfully the morphine I'd been given earlier was still working.

Tossing the ruined uniform onto the floor I relaxed into the comforting feel of the clean clothes. "I'm all done," I called to Tom and he turned around, picking up the discarded uniform as he did and folding it with the blood soaked linens.

"Much better," he smiled. "I'll get you into theatre soon – you'll feel a lot better with the shrapnel out of you."

I smiled back. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, it's my job." He scribbled something on the clipboard avoiding my eyes.

"That's not what I'm saying thank you for," I said quietly.

His eyes met mine for the first time since I'd told him. "It doesn't- I mean..." He was clearly trying to figure out his wording as the screen shifted again and Miles sauntered in.

"Oh, good. You're all ready." He grinned. "I'll get that shrapnel out of you in no time."

"Oh no, no, I'm doing this one." Tom turned to his friend with a gleam of mirth in his eyes.

"Are you stealing patients from me, Captain Gillian?" Miles squared up in a mock challenge.

"No more than you," Tom answered smoothly.

"Touché," Miles conceded with a laugh, "If you insist."

I met Tom's eyes briefly as Miles left. I didn't say anything but I hoped he could read the thanks in my expression.

..

I was taken off to the operating tent fairly quickly after that, and, following a long and painful half hour, I was back in my bed - fresh bandages around my shrapnel free stomach and my ribs bound tightly. Tom had been right. I already felt so much more comfortable now the debris had gone.

It wasn't pain free, but I was now able to sit up without assistance. It may have taken me five minutes, but at least I could do it.

The ward had fallen quiet as each man settled under the comforting words of the nurses. It was growing steadily darker outside. And inside. The only light came from the few candles placed strategically around the tent.

I sighed; I wasn't in the least bit tired. I waited until the nurse was preoccupied with another patient and I shuffled my way to the side of the bed and lowered my feet into my boots. I didn't bother do them up (I don't think I would have been able to if I had wanted to) but I made my way to the flap at the side of tent, leaning on the bed posts as I went.

I wasn't trying to leave; I just needed some fresh air. I stumbled around till I found an unoccupied bench, half hidden by the shadows, and with a fair amount of difficulty I succeeded in lowering myself onto it. My stomach muscles protested strongly at the lack of support and I ended up compromising and sitting on the ground with my back supported by the bench leg.

The air was warm enough as I sat staring at the sky. I could see the stars, which was something I never could see in the trenches. There, the sky was always lit with some explosion or other, or else it was filled with a thick smoke that clouded out sun and stars alike.

"Hello, what are you doing out here? Are you alright?"

I squinted through the dark to see Miles standing over me. I hadn't even noticed him approaching.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I bit my lip, hoping he wouldn't see, "just enjoying the beauty of France at night." I wasn't sure if that was supposed to sound sarcastic or not.

"It is the place," Miles replied slowly with a grin across his face. Not that I could really see him.

"How did you get here?" He asked after a while and for a moment I feared Tom had told him the truth.

"Same as everyone else." I tried to shrug.

Miles laughed lightly, sitting down next to me, leaning on his one raised knee. "I meant _here_, here: this bench, ideally placed for its remarkable view," he winked.

"Um, I walked?" I wondered what he was expecting me to say.

Miles was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read in the dark. "You mean to tell me," he began, shuffling closer, "that this morning you were treated to a 4 pounder at your feet by dear old fritz, and then after what I can only imagine to be a hellish journey, you had said 4 pounder removed from your side in lots of little shiny pieces, only to drag yourself out of bed to walk a hundred metres so you could sit on the floor and admire the French scenery?" His tone was light, almost impressed. "In the dark," he added, almost to himself.

"Well, it is the place," I repeated his words.

He let out a loud laugh. "I quite like you, private."

"Jo, please." I corrected.

"Joe it is, then," he grinned.

I really wished he'd stop doing that. He was gorgeous enough without smiling like that.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I caught myself, realising I'd been staring at him far longer than I intended to. I swallowed, turning my eyes back to the sky. "Like what?" I asked innocently, biting my lip in a desperate attempt to keep my voice steady.

Miles was laughing. "Don't worry, I know how unfairly attractive I am, but my looks won't fade just because you aren't looking," he joked, flashing me a smile that made me thankful I was already sat down.

"Why deprive myself from looking at someone so damn cute?" I mumbled to myself with a roll of my eyes at his endearing self-confidence.

"What was that?" Miles had turned his attention back to the sky.

"Nothing. Just commenting on the beauty of France at night." I turned my head to look back at him. There was just something beautiful about the way he was. The way his eyes followed the patterns the stars made in the sky was so enchanting.

"So, Captain. Why did you join up?" I asked, pushing my voice to sound lower.

"They just couldn't manage without me." He flashed back another of his charming smiles. "Poor Tom – Captain Gillian – simply wouldn't be able to manage without my superior skill."

I found myself laughing – completely, not just gritting my teeth and forcing a smile. "What would England have done without you?" I agreed.

"Well, I believe-"

He was cut off by a shout and the sound of footsteps running across the wooden boards. The muffled yelling told us it was one of the patients having a violent reaction to something.

"I suppose we should probably get you back to bed soon before someone realises you're missing," the sounds from the ward prompted him. "We'll give them a minute to calm down," he added, as the yelling increased in volume.

I nodded once before laying my head back against the bench. I didn't want to leave and, judging by Miles' tone, he didn't want me to leave either.


	4. Chapter 4

4

"I'd say it sounds calm enough to get you back without anyone noticing." Miles sounded genuinely disappointed as he pulled himself to his feet. "You alright to walk?"

"Standing up'll be the tricky bit first," I pointed out. "I think the morphine's starting to wear off."

He slipped his arm around my waist, carefully avoiding the bandages. With my left arm slung over his shoulders, we managed to get me upright.

As I straightened myself up, pain shot all along my stomach. "Son of a-" I cursed and slumped further into Miles.

"Alright there," he steadied me. "We'll get you some morphine and I'll take a look at it." He began to lead me towards the ward, before he suddenly changed direction which sent a hiss of pain through my teeth.

"Sorry," he winced, "I can see Matron patrolling and I'd really rather not be killed by an English nurse, not when fritz are making such an effort. It just wouldn't seem fair on them." He threw me a passing grin. "I'm taking you to my tent; you can sit down properly, I'll patch you up, and you'll be back in your bed before anyone notices."

"Oh, your tent? Do you show all the privates this generosity, or am I just a lucky boy?" I couldn't help it.

I felt Miles shoulders shake as he laughed. "You should feel very honoured; the only people I let inside are the beautiful nurses – and Thomas, of course."

I laughed or, more accurately, wheezed. "You'll make the other lads jealous."

"You better keep quiet about it then," he whispered flirtatiously and laughed.

My stomach clenched under the bandages; if only he wasn't joking when he flirted back.

Thankfully he mistook my silence for pain, tightened his grip around my waist and sped his pace. "I've got some morphine in a drawer somewhere; I mistook the crate for beer and decided to keep it for just such an occasion." He laughed to himself. "Well, I had originally intended a young lady draped over my arm, but I suppose you'll do."

I let out a breathy laugh as he lowered me onto one of the beds. I could barely see anything anymore, just the dark silhouettes of some kind of furniture.

A light flickered into existence as Miles struck a match and lit a lantern. Shadows danced around the tent as it swung gently from where his fingers released it.

"Now I can see your charming face," I quipped, regretting it instantly. I really needed to be more careful if I was going to make it through this without being sent back home. Not that I thought Miles would report anything, but I didn't want him to have to choose to defy his orders to keep my secret. I was already making Tom do that, and I was feeling bad enough as it was.

"I have been told I'm incredibly dashing," he replied easily and I relaxed back against the pillows that were propping me up.

Clearly he didn't take anything seriously enough to think it was little more than a joke.

"Roll your sleeve up." It was almost a question as he appeared in the light with a syringe of, I guessed, morphine. "You'll feel a lot better after this."

I did as he asked and he injected the clear liquid into the crook of my elbow. Almost instantly I could feel the numbing sensation spreading across my skin from the pin prick. It seemed to leave a vacancy in my brain where the pain had previously been. I just wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation I was in.

I was dressed as a man to fight in a war and was currently sat on the bed of an absolutely adorable army doctor in the middle of the night. I vaguely wondered what my mother would say if she could see me now.

Miles gave me a strange look as I tried to muffle the laugh that was building up in my throat.

"Are you alright?" he asked, a level of concern to his voice.

"I'm just peachy." I couldn't stop grinning. "Absolutely spectaculacular!"

"I think the morphine's gone to your head." Miles laughed lightly.

"It was meant to go to my stomach!" I giggled, internally slapping myself for sounding so much like a girl.

Miles was just standing with an amused look on his face. "Maybe I slightly overdosed you," he suggested musingly.

I just giggled again and Miles rolled his eyes. "Let's get you sorted out then." He pushed his sleeves up and reached out to unbutton my shirt.

"Oooh, nooo!" I squealed, my voice vibrating with laughter as I took hold of his hands to stop him. "I didn't completely ignore my mother!" I was so far buried in my cosy morphine blanket I was barely aware of what I was saying.

"Maybe the morphine was stronger than the last lot," Miles pulled his hands away with a slightly (okay _very_) confused expression to examine the side of the crate. "It should begin to wear off soon. I must have just given you too much." He turned to look at me and I grinned back.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, so you worked your magic, Captain!" I tried to wink but I think I just ended up staring at him intently and blinking several times.

"Well that's something." He abandoned the crate and turned to dig out the bandages.

At that moment the flap of the tent shifted and Thomas walked in, brushing water drops off his uniform. "Damn rain," he grumbled, tossing his cap onto the bed. He stopped when he saw me, his expression turning to one of disbelief. He spread his arms open questioningly and mouthed: "what are you doing here?"

I shrugged, and waved at him. 'It just happened,' I mouthed back.

"I thought you would have been trying to keep a low profile," he hissed under his breath.

"But he's really cute." I whined quietly, a grin spreading across my face as I watched the muscles in Miles' back as he fished out a clean bandage, thankfully completely oblivious to me.

Tom gave a start and rolled his eyes with an exasperated expression, "Are you drunk?" He narrowed his eyes at me, his expression suddenly changing to a smile as Miles turned back to us.

"Are you two gossiping behind my back?" Miles asked, pretending to be offended. "I hope you were discussing how wonderful I am."

Tom snorted as he tried to keep in a laugh. He quickly covered it with a cough as his eyes flicked to mine for a brief moment. I could see him clenching the muscles in his jaw, trying desperately to keep a straight face. His mouth was twitching as he pressed a fist to his lips in a vain attempt to compose himself.

"I feel like I'm missing out on a joke," Miles eyed us both suspiciously. "And it must be a funny one if it's got you flashing a smile." He looked to Tom, "I take it your trip to the woods with a certain Miss Trevelyan went well then." Miles' voice rose at the end as he left the speculation hanging in the air.

"Yes it did," Tom answered with a coy smile. "It was very… nice, she was nice… it was a … nice walk."

"Ah, love – it brings out the poet in us all," Miles grinned, winking at his friend.

"I'm not in love," Tom grumbled, though the smile never left his face.

"I saw the way you looked at her," I piped up from my corner, "and I saw the way she looked at you!" I was practically singing.

"Oh, you're one to talk!" Tom retorted, turning on me. "I can see the way you look at-" He stopped as he realised what he was about to say. "No one?" he finished slowly, the gears in his brain failing to think of anything better to say.

I was trying to glare at him but the morphine was making me too light headed. "Can you just change the bandages already?" I asked steering the conversation in a new direction. "The morphine's making me sleepy."

"That's not the only thing it's doing," Tom mumbled quietly, flashing me a grin.

"Alright, don't rush me," Miles smirked back. "A professional has to take his time."

Tom rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of my bed. "Oh, I'll do it. Hand me a clean bandage."

"Stealing my patient again, shameful." Miles winked at me as he passed the bandages to Tom's outstretched hand.

I realised I was staring at Miles as Tom worked on my side, but I couldn't find it in me to care. I could always claim it was the morphine.

"You're healing up nicely. And pretty bloody quickly, if you'll pardon my French," Tom commented as he tied off the bandage and pulled my shirt back down over it. "You must have had a good set of stomach muscles before Fritz had a go at you."

"I always was a healthy young gir- guy," I corrected myself hurriedly with a cough.

Tom pulled a face at me, but thankfully Miles didn't seem to have noticed.

"I suppose we should get you back to the ward before we're all court-martialled for stealing a patient," Miles joked, but there was a hint of genuine disappointment in his voice. Though whether that was about me leaving or having to walk through the rain to get rid of me I wasn't sure.

"I suppose we should," I agreed, eyeing the rain. I could see the light glinting off the tiny spears of water as they fell past the flap in the tent. It was strangely beautiful.

I yawned, and then yawned again, and again. Miles was right; the initial effects of the morphine were already starting to wear off and my brain was shutting down.

I heard Tom give a light chuckle as Miles wrapped his arm around me to pull me to my feet. I swayed for a moment until Tom caught my other arm and together they half lead, half carried me through the rain to the ward.

The nurse's head snapped up as they dragged me through the flap.

"Last minute operation," Miles explained as he heaved me onto the bed, "No need to worry. Just call me when he wakes up."

My eyes were already shut as I felt fingers pulling the boots from my feet and the warmth of the sheets covering me. I was asleep before Miles had left my side.

**Just for anyone who was wondering, Morphine really does do that to you... I spent who-knows-how-long with an itchy nose wondering why the doctors were adamantly denying the existence of the monkeys they brought with them...  
****Though now I think about it, they _were_ cartoon monkeys... **

**Anyhoo... I should probably stop talking now...  
aurevoir!**


	5. Chapter 5

5

I'd been in the hospital a week and most of the other patients had moved on, or were still confined to their beds. The hospital was, as a result, unusually quiet and peaceful, and the warm weather introduced an incredibly relaxed atmosphere that was nudging towards being lazy.

Earlier that morning, Tom had changed my bandages and had decided to use his plentiful free time 'helping' a Miss Kitty Trevelyan, much to mine and Miles' amusement. In fact, his efforts were doing anything but – it took a full hour for her to make the beds on just one of the wards. The other nurses were milling around, with only a few patients requiring care; everyone was at a loose end.

Miles and I sat across from each other at a table in the sun playing what became a very violent game of cards. It turned out we were both a little too competitive – Miles had actually splintered the wood of the table slamming his hand onto it in order to claim the smaller pile of cards.

We were on our sixth game, one we'd been playing solidly for nearly two hours, when there came a shout that there was a squad of men marching towards us on the road.

Miles and I didn't even glance up from our game; if they were walking here there was clearly nothing much wrong with them, and it looked like the game was going to finish in another round or so.

Then again, we had thought that at least forty minutes before.

"Are you ready to give in yet?" Miles threw me his adorable smile.

It was unfair him being able to distract me like that, but I just returned the grin. "Are _you_?"

"Just because you're winning, you think you're invincible." He lowered his voice to a growl that sent shivers up my spine.

It really was unfair.

"Quit bluffing and turn the damn card." I rolled my eyes, my hands hovering over my last fourteen cards.

He leant forwards across the table and tapped his stack of cards with a finger. "If I win this, I want your bacon rations for a week."

I laughed. "You're already on double rations; you won't fit into that uniform of yours if you keep going like this."

"I'm fighting fit!" he objected. "Tom's the one you need to watch. Now Kitty's accepted his proposal he's got complacent – let himself go."

"Tom proposed?" I interrupted him gleefully. "No wonder he was actually smiling this morning – he seemed like a different person… so much less moody." I flashed a smile.

Miles' eyes flicked to the side as he took a breath and held it. "Yes," he breathed out. "But, thinking about it, that was supposed to be a secret." He grinned sheepishly.

"Understood," I smirked. "I won't breathe a word."

"Anyway, as I was saying," he leant further towards me, "I had to put an extra hole in his belt this morning."

"You did not!" I couldn't help but laugh. "But_ when_ I win, I want you to prove to me how 'fighting fit' you are by doing two laps of the field." I inclined my head towards the expanse of grass.

Miles' expression barely faltered. "I could do three," he boasted.

"Done," I grinned slyly.

Miles bit his lip for a second as he realised the stakes he'd just agreed to. "I can taste the bacon already." His feigned confidence fooled no one.

"Stop your stalling," I laughed.

With a sigh of determination he flipped the top card over and the space between us filled with a frenzy of cards. I don't think either of us really had a clue what cards we were putting down.

We were both yelling as we fought to get our cards down before the other made our move invalid. In a flurry I dropped my last card onto the deck and for a split second our eyes met. The recognition of the challenge was clear in his eyes. It all came down to speed now.

We both lunged for the empty space next to the pile and my hand slammed into the wood barely a millisecond before Miles' hand came crashing down on top of mine. There was an audible crack and the brittle wood of the table gave in; it shattered, spilling cards and shards of wood in all directions.

Our hands stayed hanging in the air, where the table had been moments before. There was a second of silence and then Miles let out a snort of laughter and I could do nothing to stop my own laughter from ripping through me.

The stakes were momentarily forgotten as we stared at the wreckage of the wood.

"Noisily destroying military supplies, it just had to be my Jo."

The voice startled us both and I turned to see John walking towards us, his jacket slung over his shoulders.

"John!" I had to try my hardest not to squeal like a girl.

"Well if it isn't my little brother," he grinned back, enveloping me in a hug that made me wince. "Glad to see you haven't lost your skill with that game. Though I still haven't forgiven you for breaking my hand," he teased.

"That was years ago!" I protested, thumping him on the shoulder. "And you were cheating! The card was still in your other hand!"

John rolled his eyes. "That's what you keep telling yourself."

I punched him again. "But, whatever you say, this time I won! Fair and square!" I turned back to Miles, grinning like an idiot. "Don't you have something you should be doing, _Captain_?" I dropped the emphasis on his rank with a wink.

"Damn, I don't suppose there's any point arguing?" He grinned hopefully, scratching the side of his head.

I said nothing.

"Frankly I'm too scared to even try." He crouched down and began picking up the cards deposited across the dry mud. "Fine," he conceded, that adorable grin still etched into his face. "You won, I'll do my time. But can I beg of you the one small mercy of waiting until I won't pass out from heat exhaustion?"

"I thought you were fighting fit?" I teased, sitting back down on the bench. I was healing, but crouching was definitely out of the question.

"If you insist," Miles began dramatically. "But please bury me somewhere nice – preferably with a view of the sea."

John chuckled from behind me. "Or perhaps, Jo, you could spare the poor Captain's life so he can part with his money for the drinks tonight," he suggested.

"Tonight?" Miles and I chorused.

"Me and the lads are on leave in the town and Matron's letting us steal you away for the night." He grinned. "As long as one of the docs tags along to make sure we don't get you too drunk and damage all their hard work," he added with a wink.

"I would be delighted to accompany you." Miles flourished a small bow from where he was crouched on the ground. He sounded for all the world like he was accepting an afternoon stroll with the King.

"You? As a chaperone?" I laughed, probably a little too loudly. "You'd be face down in the gutter with an empty bottle of whatever-you-can-find in your hand before we're even out of the car."

"Why does everyone have to keep bringing up that night?" Miles rolled his eyes then winked, his composure, as always, completely unaffected. "I promise to be the gallant gentleman throughout."

"If you manage that I'll let you out of your bargain," I snorted disbelievingly.

Miles just folded his arms sulkily. "I don't like you." However, the grin that still hadn't left his face belied his words.

A shout came from by the Colonel's cabin and we turned to see the rest of the lads waving energetically. A subdued Matron was standing next to them, clearly telling them off for disrupting the patients.

"I suppose I'd better let the others over now – Matron said I had to ask if you felt you were up to visitors first." John grinned, "I can't keep you all to myself; they've given me nothing but hell since I left you here in the first place." He waved over to the others who pelted their way towards us, ignoring Matron's half-hearted shout of protest.

I thought Miles was going to be trampled for a moment, but clearly he had the same thought as he pulled himself to his feet and, with a smirk, called out that he was going to go stop Tom pestering Kitty before she killed him in a moment of passionate infuriation.

I turned back just in time to be charged by three ridiculously over-excited men, all yelling and laughing about something that was clearly a topic of excitement. I grinned, guessing we had a week's worth of catching up to do.


	6. Chapter 6

6

It was eventually decided that Miles was not to be trusted, and Tom would go instead, but since Miles had then moped around with a dejected frown on his face, Matron had resentfully allowed him to go on the strict understanding that Tom would keep him well away from the absinthe.

We crammed into two cars – Miles driving John, Simon and Ed, and Tom driving the smaller car with me lounging in the passenger seat and Luke sitting in the back.

"Is it safe letting Miles drive?" I raised my eyebrows as the car we were following swerved dangerously to one side, eliciting yells from its three passengers.

Tom laughed. "That's why you're in this one; the rest of them can get out and run."

I smiled to myself, letting the cool breeze flow over me.

"So, Jo, how's your week of being an invalid gone?" Luke stuck his head through the partition, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "John told us one of the docs was... very appealing." His grin spread from ear to ear as I elbowed him in the chest.

Tom let out a snort from beside me and I glared at him.

"I'm actually going to kill him," I complained, knowing that Luke's smile only got bigger.

He rested his head on my shoulder. "Now what sort of brother would you be if you did that?" He teased.

"Well, joke's on you," I jabbed his forearm. "Because I'm not his brother am I?" I twisted my head to look at him and stuck my tongue out.

Luke glanced at Tom for a moment.

"Oh, don't worry, he knows," I clarified. "After that bastard left me I had to tell someone. Otherwise they'd have got a bit of a shock in the operation." I grinned. "Though I think it's safe to say it was still fairly shocking."

Tom's eye roll confirmed this. "Just a bit," the sarcasm dripped from his tone. "You've got to get points on originality though." He smiled to himself.

Luke ruffled my hair so that it stuck up in every direction. "That's our Jo."

Tom began to ask a question about something before the war but, before we could answer, the cars turned into a street and the lads all started jumping out.

"Come on Joe!" Miles shouted as he jumped out of the car in front. "Drinks are on me, remember!"

Tom rolled his eyes. "For all it's worth, if he knew you were a girl, he'd be singing love songs by now and you'd be sick of the sight of him."

I threw him a small smile. "I'm doing the right thing, aren't I – by not telling him?"

"I wish I could say," Tom pulled his mouth into a sympathetic expression.

I nodded and manoeuvred myself carefully out of the seat. I knew Tom had a pack of morphine in the back, just in case, but I didn't want to need it.

..

French chatter filled the pub as we ducked through the narrow doorway; we were greeted by a cheer and a drunk Frenchman pulled Tom into an embrace, kissing both his cheeks.

"Why's he kissing him?" Luke whispered to Miles, eyeing them weirdly.

"It's a French thing," Miles explained, grinning at Tom's expression. "Don't ask me why, but just trying to leave a room takes twenty minutes once everyone's gone round and kissed everyone else." He smirked. "They always insist that as it's their country, we should be the ones to follow their customs." He turned his attention towards the bar. "Sept pintes s'il vous plait."

"Didn't know you could speak French," I nudged him; I was honestly impressed.

"I am a man of many talents," he replied in his usual modest way. "And being able to order a round is certainly a lot easier when you don't have to hold up seven fingers and point."

I laughed. That was definitely true.

The beers were slid along the bar towards us and we retreated to a vacant corner to sit.

Simon and Ed were already stripping their jackets as they thrust their pints into empty hands and leapt at each other, just as they'd done ever since they knew what boxing was.

I watched them fondly; I'd never gone more than a day without seeing them all – Simon, Ed, Luke and, of course, John. We'd all grown up together, and all joined up together. It was always the five us, and as the only children in our tiny village we had been inseparable. My trip to the hospital was the first time we'd ever really been apart.

..

"Un autre pour le table s'il vous plait!" Miles waved a hand at the barman.

I'd lost count of how many drinks we'd had after the fourth round but, slouched into the seat with Miles' arm draped casually over my shoulders, I really didn't care. It had been far too long since we could all just relax without fritz trying to join the party.

Luke was loudly explaining to Miles and Tom about the time I managed to fall in a river while trying to steal apples from the manor house and had ended up with a fishing hook in my leg and confined to bed for a week with some horrible illness. Of course they'd all ignored the fact that I was supposed to be quarantined and climbed through my window every night until they all came down with it too.

After another three pints I found myself perched on Tom's lap, talking to an old Frenchman as we discussed something futile with so much vigour it may as well have been the latest war plans.

Miles appeared at my side, swaying slightly on his feet. He laid a hand on my shoulder to balance himself. "I'm afraid to spoil your fun, but we should probably be getting back soon," Miles grinned, clearly proud of himself for still being in control of his feet.

Tom let out a laugh, "I suppose you're still conscious, and still standing – and still speaking English – so that's a three hundred percent improvement on last time."

"I'm fine!" Miles declared, flinging his arms open to emphasise his point but forgetting about the drink he held in his hand which he threw over the poor man stood behind him.

"You're not driving though," Tom stood up, tipping me off his lap. "You're dangerous enough completely sober." He steered Miles into the chair and took the, now empty, tankard from his hand. "I'll drive you both back. Then you can come collect the other car in the morning," he grinned. "You'll enjoy that. Especially if Matron catches you drunk," he added.

"What about all of you?" I looked to John, ignoring Miles' grumbling about being sober. "Where are you staying?"

"We've got some rooms nearby," John replied with a lopsided smile. "The Cap'n is welcome to stay there till he's sobered up."

"That's probably a good idea; Colonel'll never let him out again if he comes back drunk. _Again_."

Luke staggered over to us and pulled me into a hug. "You stay safe Jo-Jo, and we'll come visit again tomorrow before we're moving out."

I hugged him back, and before long everyone was piled on top of us. It took a good five minutes for the hug to finish until we all finally staggered back from each other, laughing.

"No, no, no," a French accent tutted us. "You are in France now, you must give the bisous. It is how it is done." The old man Tom and I had just been talking to pulled Luke to him and planted a kiss on both of his cheeks to demonstrate. "You don't want to offend an old man, do you?" His accent made it hard to tell whether he was joking or not.

Luke just grinned at me, "Get here you," he laughed, taking my shoulders and kissing my cheeks then, after a glare from the Frenchman, he and Tom awkwardly touched cheeks. It took the best part of six minutes until the old man's glare landed on Miles, who lifted himself out of the chair with some difficulty.

"Come here Jo-Jo," he grinned, using his new favourite nickname. He took my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my cheek but, as he moved to kiss the other cheek, he tripped over his own feet and ended up planting a kiss on the corner of my mouth.

My heart stopped. I opened my mouth to say something just as he had the same idea. Our lips brushed together and I felt static run down my spine. Kissing him then was just a reflex. So that's what I did.


	7. Chapter 7

7

Miles didn't move. He stood frozen for a second and when he went to move I was sure he was about to push me away, disgusted. Then I felt his hands curl into the fabric of my shirt and he deepened the kiss, crushing his lips to mine. He took a step forward, pushing my back up against the wall as he pressed himself closer.

His left hand slid to my hip as his right held the back of my neck. My brain was screaming at me that he still thought I was a man but, for some reason – I blame the alcohol – I didn't care; I'd been waiting for this since I first saw him.

All too soon the kiss ended, as suddenly as it had started. Miles jumped back from me as if he'd been burned. His eyes were wide with shock, and shining with badly concealed mirth as he pressed a fist to his lips. Behind his smile I could tell that the kiss had worried him; it had felt so right.

But I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid! My actions must have mimicked his as I brought my hands over my mouth, internally cursing myself for being such an idiot. "I didn't mean to-" I began, but he interrupted me.

"I'm so sorry." He had that stupidly adorable half smile plastered on his face, though now it was much more the look of a child who'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was attempting to bluff his way out of it. "I just… I seemed to think… I mean…."

I'd never seen Miles speechless before. His face was a deep red as he struggled to find the right words. "With as little offence meant as possible," he reverted back to his usual charming smile, if slightly ebbed by drink, "…but for a moment, I didn't seem to know you weren't…" he paused, taking a breath as his brain tripped over the words. "_Female_." He clasped his hands in front of him, digging his fingernails into the back of his knuckles. "I assure you it won't happen again." He smiled, almost sadly.

John was standing behind him, biting his knuckle in a desperate attempt to keep his laughter quiet. My eyes flicked to Tom whose lips were pursed together, his face red with the effort of trying not to laugh.

My head was still spinning from the sensation of having his lips on mine. I'd been trying not to admit it to myself, but after that kiss there was no denying it, _I loved Miles_. My eyes settled back on his face, his perfect face. "I love you."

It took me a full second to realise I'd just said that out loud and my hands instantly clamped over my mouth. Miles seemed to choke on his breath as his eyes snapped back to mine, a mixture of fear, surprise and something like hope etched into his handsome features.

It was then that John's eyes flicked to Tom's and the second they made eye contact it became too much for them. Tom let out a bellowing laugh, doubling over so that he was actually leaning on his knees, and John was no better – he was using Luke for support as his whole body shook with laughter.

"Y-you love me?" Miles stammered, and I couldn't help but think back to what Tom had said. Maybe he really did like me, but he didn't understand why – because, as far as he knew, I was _Joseph _Coleman.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Tom's shout of laughter cut me off.

"For heaven's sake Miles, I thought you were intelligent!" He flung his arm over Miles' shoulders as he laughed harder. "You two are driving me insane!" Tom barely could pronounce the words through his laughter. "I've honestly never seen you so head-over-heels in love before," he grinned, pinching Miles' cheek.

I didn't miss the elbow Miles jabbed into Tom's stomach, though I couldn't quite hear his hissed response. Whatever it was Tom roared with laughter, in a way only a Scotsman can achieve, leaning so heavily on Miles that I thought they were both about to collapse.

I pushed myself off the wall, wincing slightly as my stomach muscles clenched in painful protest. Instinctively, his hands reached out help me but he quickly checked himself, clenching his hands into fists before dropping them at his sides.

"I-" I started to try to explain, but my head was barely keeping itself together; I'd actually kissed Miles, and I'd told him I loved him. I couldn't help it as a laugh burst from me - the more I thought about it, the funnier it got. I pressed my palms to my face, my fingers massaging my eyes as I let out a shaky breath.

"The Cap's right," John calmed himself long enough to speak. I looked up to see him fighting to keep his composure as he nodded to Tom – who'd taken to leaning on a chair, rather than Miles, while he tried to remember how lungs were supposed to work. "You two are infuriating!" He grabbed Miles' arm, pulling him forwards, and then pulled me towards them both.

I could see the gears in Miles' head whirring as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His eyes were searching my face for some explanation, but I didn't know what to say. His kiss had made me far dizzier than the alcohol had and I couldn't keep the smile off my face.

"I never thought I'd be telling my little sister-"

Miles choked again. "Sister?!"

John ignored him, "-to hurry up and kiss the dark, handsome stranger… but would you please just kiss him already?"

"You're his _sister_?!"

It was my turn for the caught-stealing-cookies grin. "It never came up?" I bit my lip hopefully.

He let out a long relieved sigh, "Bloody hell, I thought I was-" he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. "You knew?" He turned to Tom who just nodded, still laughing.

"Your face-" Tom began, but peeled off into a fresh bout of laughter.

"I think I preferred the sullenly silent version of you," Miles complained. He turned back to me, his eyes tracking my face, seemingly searching for something to clarify this all for him. "You're really not a man?" he asked jokingly, but with a glimmer of real suspicion in his tone.

I shook my head, a small laugh escaping my lips.

He blinked a few times, clearly judging the amount of alcohol he'd had and the possibility of this all being a liquor-induced dream. "So this isn't one of those charming school-boy pranks that backfire and everyone's left not talking to anyone else for the rest of the term?"

I raised my eyebrows slightly, silently questioning what sort of school it was that he'd gone to, but again shook my head. I just shrugged my jacket off my shoulders and, with some difficulty, unwound the strip of linen from around my chest, pulling it out from under my shirt with a slightly rueful smile. "I wanted to tell you, I honestly did."

Miles' hand flicked back to his mouth as his brain worked through what was happening. He squeezed his eyes shut, opening them quickly as if he was half expecting everything to be different.

I suddenly found myself speaking so quickly I'm not sure the words that came out were actually the ones I'd been intending to say. "At first I was too scared that you'd go to the Colonel and I'd be sent home or that you'd get into trouble if anyone found out and I was already feeling guilty that Tom had to keep my secret and then once I'd got to know you and I knew you wouldn't tell and that you wouldn't care I didn't know how to tell you and the more I got to know you the more I realised that I was falling in love with you and I didn't think you liked me because, well, because I was a man and then I thou-"

"You bloody bastard," Miles whispered, taking a step forward, pushing John out of the way as he did so. He gently wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and lifted my mouth to his, kissing me firmly. Someone, I think Luke, whistled as he did.

"I'm sorry," I tried to say, but he pulled my mouth back, deepening the kiss. "I-" he didn't even let me get to the second word that time.

"I think, just maybe, he's kissing you to shut you up," Luke pointed out with a smirk.

I pulled back, giving Miles a suspicious glare. "Are you?"

Miles pulled his face into a thoughtful expression. "Little bit," he nodded with a laugh. "So if you would do me the honour of complying, for at least a minute, I would be extremely grateful."

I couldn't help smiling at how ridiculously polite and English he sounded, even slightly drunk. He took my silence for consent and curled his fingers through my hair pulling my face back towards his. His lips caught mine with a deliberation that hadn't been there before and I found myself melting into his touch. I didn't try to say a word this time; I had much more pressing matters to focus on and besides, my mother had always told me it was rude to speak with your mouth full.

**...**

**Well... there you go, I... err... well... yes.**

**Less said the better I think.**

**I hope you enjoyed it, I'd love to know what you think! :)  
~sockitysocks**


End file.
